Ah, pregnancy is so glamourous, isn't it?
Before the Boy - back when we were excitedly running home and hitting the sheets (or carpet, or dining table) - I had this idea of what pregancy was going to be like. I would walk around in these super stylish maternity clothes, and look oh so cute and hip. Everyone would comment about how I was glowing, and how pregnancy really suited me. I would gain exactly the amount of weight necessary to grow a baby, and not an ounce more. And once the baby was out, the pounds would magically disappear because everyone knows that when you breastfeed your baby, you lose all your pregnancy weight.
Ha. Sometimes I think that people take delight in keeping the preggo hopefuls in the dark.
The first time around, I looked okay and didn't gain too much weight. I was NOT super stylish or, in fact, anywhere near hip. I took one look at the price tags in the designer stores and skulked out to buy some cotton muumuus from Thyme Maternity. I did have a glow caused by the extreme oiliness of my skin. That "glow", coupled with acne, made me a beautiful sight to behold. Pregnancy would have "suited me" if I was, oh, say, THIRTEEN AND HORMONAL. (But that would be wrong, of course. I am not endorsing teen pregnancy). I might have lost the pregnancy weight while breastfeeding, if I didn't consume large quantities of chocolate to keep me up in the wee hours of the night without screaming.
This time around, it seems that all the symptoms are still there, they're just worse. I started out about 10 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight, and everything has just snowballed from there. The cheap maternity muumuus that I so lovingly saved from the first time around DON'T FIT. Good times.
I haven't even gotten to the backaches, the constant peeing, the puffy legs, the number of shoes that I have that no longer fit, the crankiness... Oh yes, I am one big ball of glam.
To add insult to injury, this weekend I broke down and had to go out and buy some new panties: Size Large. I haven't bought large panties since I was an unattractively overweight teen. I even managed to squeak by during the last pregnancy by squeezing into my medium Victoria Secrets. Not so, this time. My "little girl" decided she was getting too much of breeze, and my butt-crack was in danger of being rather overexposed, so shopping I went. And wearing large panties I am. I cut the tag out, though. I'm that vain.
Mr Earth, god bless him, comforts me whenever I complain about how much weight I'm gaining. "You're pregnant!" I know! But it's very possible to be pregnant AND fat. I'm fairly certain that all of the weight I've gained is not strictly necessary. Nor was that 3rd cookie. Or the 10th, for that matter. The 1/2 pound of chocolate probably didn't fulfill any dietary needs either. Or the 50th TimBit. Yes, my friends, I am the Baroness von Fat. You're all invited to my tea party! If you're coming, though, please bring me some pants. I bust the thighs out on the old pair. Oh, and bring a doughnut while you're at it, will you? Why quit now?? Things are just getting good.